Page 102 of Better Than Gelato
Paolo nods.
Naomi gives him a big smile showing off bright, even teeth. “I love Italy. It’s so romantic. What are you doing later?”
“I have a girlfriend,” he says.
It’s funny hearing Paolo speak English. He sounds British.
Naomi is undeterred. “I don’t see her around,” she says. “Why don’t I let you buy me dinner tonight?” She’s literally batting her eyelashes.
“No thank you,” Paolo says, and I want to cheer. But I also don’t want to move.
Naomi darts a look at me, but I don’t even have the energy to gloat at her rejection.
Jake comes back with some pills and a bottle of water.
“Here, take this,” he says, handing me two pills. My throat feels tight and lumpy, but I get them down.
“Thanks,” I say. Jake looks at me, and it’s nice to see that he still has the sparkly love eyes, even when I must look terrible.
“We’re not leaving for Malta until tomorrow,” he says. “Maybe you’ll be feeling better by then?”
“Maybe,” I say.
Paolo shakes his head. “They won’t even let her on a plane looking like that. Better she stays here and rests.”
Jake nods his head. “I’m so sorry,” he says again.
“S’okay.” I say. “I’ll rest and be good as new when you get back.”
Jake squeezes my hand. “Okay. Let me get you home.”
I don’t hear what he says to Naomi, but her response is loud enough for all of us to hear.
“What? We haven’t even made it to Prada!” I notice the pile of designer bags behind her.
“We’ll be back in an hour, I promise,” Jake says.
“I can get home on my own,” I say. “It’s just sitting on a bus.”
“It’s not safe,” Jake says. “Those meds are going to kick in soon, they’re pretty powerful.”
“I’ll take her home,” Paolo says. “I have some errands to do out that way anyway.” Paolo couldn’t possibly have errands by my apartment, because there is nothing in that area that they don’t have downtown. But his voice is so authoritative there’s no arguing.
We say goodbye to Jake and Naomi, and then Paolo and I walk to the bus stop. By the time we get to the Rossis’, I can barely stay on my feet.
“Paolo, remember that time after my birthday with all the pomegranates in the elevator?” I start to giggle, and I can’t stop.
“I do remember, dear girl. What I don’t know is what in the world Jake gave you.”
“I’ll be fine. He’s a doctor.”
Paolo helps me to my bed. I close my eyes. With supreme effort, I open my eyes and then take off my left boot. My right boot does not want to come off, but Paolo unzips it and takes it off for me. He’s a good friend.
“I love you,” I tell Paolo. “Not like that, not like that. But you know, friend love.”
Paolo looks amused. I may be slurring a little. “I love you too, Dolcetta.” And that’s the last thing I remember for the next twelve hours.
When I wake up it’s dark outside. My head feels better, but my limbs feel like they’re made of cement. I check my phone, and I have a bunch of texts and a voicemail from Jake. I text him to let him know I’m okay and then immediately fall back asleep.
